


Marvel One Shot Collection

by tempered_rose



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, One Shot Collection, Serious Injuries, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-13 06:12:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14743463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempered_rose/pseuds/tempered_rose
Summary: Various stories to be added as I write them, some comic canon others are a mix of movie/comic/me. Requests are open, if you wish.





	1. Closeted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been reading a LOT of Spideypool and wanted to give it a try. I fucking love these two.

Peter would swear--on a stack of Bibles--that he didn’t know how this happened. He should have known, Deadpool being Deadpool after all, that something dumb like this would happen. But how had _he_ gotten stuck with this situation? He felt like putting his head in his hands, except that would limit the already cramped amount of space they were currently occupying.

Peter was sitting on an overturned mop bucket, head resting on his hand with his elbow on his thigh, watching Deadpool yank, rattle, and ram his body into the door that was currently locked from the outside. Every so often Deadpool would mutter a curse or just prattle on to ‘them’ about how this was just something out of a romantic comedy. For the moment, at least, it appeared that Deadpool had forgotten Peter existed.

His fingers drummed along his cheek as he watched Deadpool slump against the metal door and if Peter didn’t know any better, he’d say the Merc looked defeated.

“Give it up, Pool.” Peter said quietly. However, his words seemed to perk the Merc up.

“To you? Anytime, Spidey. Just say when.” He then started to remove his belt and Peter quickly held up his hand.

“Not that!” His cheeks were burning under his mask as he rushed through his next words. “Give up trying the door! It’s obviously not going to budge from this side. We need the key and someone to be on the outside.”

Peter craned his neck up to look at the darkened ceiling over their heads. He heard leather moving around from Deadpool’s side of the janitor’s closet they had been shoved in during a chase with a morally questionable scientist earlier. Peter really hoped that he wasn’t undoing his belt.

“I mean...we _could_ try it, I suppose…” Deadpool said and tossed something in his hand and promptly caught it. Peter’s senses registered something not being right and he quickly looked over to see Deadpool tossing a grenade and looking contemplatively at it.

“What--What are you thinking?” Peter asked fighting the urge to wrestle the grenade out of Deadpool’s hand. He knew that Deadpool was capable of rational thought, sometimes, and provoking him would lead him to making the wrong choice and doing something stupid. How many times had he seen the mercenary do something stupid just in an overzealous attempt at a ‘hey watch this!’ moment?

“How good is that healing factor of yours, Spidey?” Deadpool asked quietly, too quietly. His fingers were already going toward the pin to pull on the grenade. Peter swallowed.

“Not as good as yours.” He replied in a tone that he hoped was casual. “Small space like this? It would compound the blast.”

“It would definitely get the door open then.”

Peter nodded and licked his lips. “Yeah, but there would only be pieces, if we were lucky, of us left to catch Simmons.” He took a slow, deliberate step toward Deadpool. “And I’m not as lucky as you. My parts can’t regrow me like yours can.”

“Lucky?” Deadpool fixated on that word and made a dismissively unamused sound before he stowed the grenade back in his belt. Peter relaxed a little but wondered at Deadpool’s tone. It wasn’t exactly like he knew the story behind the masked man. He only knew small things that various agencies and heroes (and Tony Stark) had amassed over the years, which was surprisingly not that much. He knew personally that Deadpool fanboyed Spiderman more than a four year old would and was a mercenary whose mouth was permanently running with inane comments. Peter also had heard that Deadpool had been involved in some sort of accident that had disfigured him, but he wasn’t sure how.

Deadpool cleared his throat and stood up straighter, winning some internal war with himself. Peter thought he heard Deadpool whisper ‘it’s okay he doesn’t know’ to himself, but the man in question was advancing on him before he could think it over.

“You are playing a dangerous game, Spidey. Telling me about your parts and asking me to give it up! If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like you’re after my modesty!”

“Since when were you ever modest?” Peter asked, looking up and up and up at the mercenary towering over him. Peter’s cheeks turned red again when he realized that his head was crotch level with Deadpool from where he had been sitting. Peter jumped up from his seat, which only served to bring him chest to chest with him. Peter took a step up onto the bucket and was now a few inches taller than Deadpool and he had to admit he liked the feeling of being able to stand over him like this.

“Modest? Me? You’re right, it doesn’t sell, does it?”

Peter shook his head as Deadpool didn’t make any move to put more inchest between them.

“So what are we going to do about getting out of here?” Peter asked, looking at the ceiling again and seeing a line of ductwork heading toward the darkest corner in the entire room.

“You mean you want to come out of the closet? And with _me_? I’m honored, Spidey. Touched, truly.”

Peter sighed and stood on his tiptoes to look further into the shadows.

Deadpool continued, “Though I would _not_ mind if you ever wanted to touch. Baby boy got back, if you know what I mean.”

Peter smiled to himself and aimed his webshooter to the vent and pulled the metal covering away. It flung off and landed somewhere beyond Deadpool’s head and the other wall.

“You trying to take my head off with that, Spidey? I thought we were friends.”

“I’m not--” Peter started to reply back in the negative like he normally would have but then paused. He shot another web out of reflex and landed against the side of the duct, it was big enough he could fit through but Deadpool wouldn’t. Deadpool was watching him with his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted to the side. He wondered what Deadpool’s expression really was on the other side of that mask because of his hesitation. The way he was looking at Peter had the Spidey senses going off again, though this time not out of physical danger but a more personal one. 

“I’m not going to forget about you. I will be back.”

The tension eased in Deadpool’s stance as his arms came back to his side and his head straightened.

“Don’t forget to get me out of the closet, Spidey.”

“I won’t.” Peter then maneuvered himself into the duct and started to slide through to the next room in search of Simmons, the scientist, or a key.

From behind him, he heard from the closet Deadpool talking to himself again and praising blue spandex for enhancing the muscles in the gluteus maximus region and Peter blushed again. It wasn’t until he landed in the main lab that he remembered Deadpool calling him ‘Baby boy’ and for some reason Peter realized that he wouldn’t mind hearing that again. At home. Privately.

“Get a grip, Parker.” He thought to himself and started back toward the closet, master key in hand.


	2. Hold On

“Maybe... “

Peter suppressed a grimace and waited for the rest of that sentence, though he was already halfway to cringing and Wade hadn’t even finished his thought yet.

“Maybe it’s just me, but is it getting desperate in here, or what?”

Peter, who already partially rolled his mask up to his nose to make it easier to breathe, was slumped against the wall of the dangling elevator box. He looked up at Wade and didn’t have an amused expression. “Not funny.”

“C’mon Petey.” Wade whined. “Y’know I have to be funny, especially like...this.” Wade gestured to the small empty space between them; unlike Peter, he still had his mask fully on. “The Boxes are more inclined to stay focused if I’m cracking jokes, y’know…”

But Peter didn’t know, not really. He considered any reference to the boxes as just ‘one of those things’ that Wade would say before he was on another burst of verbal diarrhea that carried the topic onto something else far-fetched.

“Yeah, well...Just get us out of here, okay?” Peter tried to adjust his position since he was starting to slide down the wall but he hissed as the movement pulled at his muscles.

Wade went silent and Peter couldn’t stop the slide. Once he settled on the floor, he slowly exhaled and his ribs protested the movement against his injury. Peter bit his lip and made himself open his eyes to see Wade staring at him. He didn’t like when Wade was silent like this; it didn’t bode well.

“Wade?” Peter asked tentatively.

“Still not healing yet, Petey Wheaty?” Wade whispered and Peter was tempted to lie to him, to say that it was. He had a feeling that Wade would know, however, and he wasn’t inclined to be dishonest. He shook his head slightly and heard the Canadian curse rather profanely before he turned around to see if he couldn’t make his way out the top of the elevator again.

“God, I’m gonna need a stronger drink to deal with this.” Wade muttered to himself before he hauled himself out of the elevator and Peter tried not to panic as the entire metal box began to sway loosely on the few remaining cables there were still holding it to the building’s pulley system.

“Funny, I was just thinking that.” Peter replied with a huff of air intended to be a laugh. He pressed his hand against the deep gouges in his abdomen and ignored the sticky warm liquid that continuously kept seeping between his fingers and had been over the last almost-hour.

The box swung as Wade moved overhead and Peter lost sight of him but continued being able to hear him as he assumed Wade was climbing up. Peter had a moment of panic that he tried to laugh off.

“Don’t forget the pizza when you get back.”

A grunt and then a call back down, “Pizza? What kind of girl do you take me for?”

“One with good taste?”

“Chimichangas all the way, girlfriend.” Then his voice faded too far for Peter to hear clearly. The box continued to move and sway but only slightly and not the great rocking as it had when Wade first climbed up.

Peter closed his eyes and tried to focus on breathing. He and Wade had been following Tombstone when Peter had been caught by a rather nasty blow from the giant and it hadn’t gone quite as normally as Peter would have thought. Normally, he could take the hit and get back up again no problem, only this time, it hadn’t just been Tombstone’s fists. The albino had been wearing brass knuckles or some other similar device and it had been coated in _some_ thing that had completely stopped Peter’s healing process. All three of them had been surprised but Tombstone exceptionally pleased had dodged Wade’s intended kill shot and had left them stuck here from the following pursuit, in a broken elevator with a multi-storey drop under it and shoddy wiring holding it all together. In the meanwhile, blood had just been oozing out of Peter at a rate that even his high-functioning brain couldn’t guess.

He lost track of time with his eyes closed and was startled back rudely by the sound of the metal cables beginning to snap. His eyes opened wide, but that was all that he could manage. He’d lost too much blood to be able to do much maneuvering of any kind. Maybe if he could get one of the shooters to latch onto the elevator shaft’s wall he could just hold on?

Peter was about to try for it when something fell through the gap in the ceiling of the elevator that was Deadpool-logo shaped. “Catch!” Wade yelled a moment too late even as Peter’s fingers took hold of it before the gadget came to life in his hand and wrapped around his wrist and held fast even as the elevator--and Peter’s stomach--fell out from underneath him. 

Peter scrabbled for purchase on anything but Wade called out from overhead again, “Let it go Petey, just hang on.” 

Down the elevator went until it smashed hard and loud at the bottom, sending a cloud of dust and debris upward. Peter looked up and Wade was on the roof and was mechanically reeling Peter up the distance between them. Once he arrived at the top of the roof, Peter looked back down and saw the ruins of the smashed elevator far below them and he shivered, leaning a little closer to Wade in the process.

“Sorry, baby boy, the food’s gonna have to wait.” Wade kept Peter close to him as he removed the pulley from Peter’s wrist. When Peter still didn’t move once it was gone, Wade shifted and looked at his abdomen again. “Still not any better?”

“Not any worse, maybe that’s a good thing?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Come on Spidey. We’ll find that motherfucker and exactly what did this to you. You’ll be right as roses in no time.” Wade stood and hoisted Peter up despite the younger man’s protests.

“Isn’t it ‘right as rain’?”

“But who said the rain was leaning right? Maybe it wants to be a socialist instead.”

“I’ll defer to you on the political leanings of rain.”

Wade nodded happily and started across the roof. “Now, I’m not as good at this kind of thing as you are, so I’m sorry if the ride is bouncy.”

“I forgive you, just this once.”

“I knew you loved me, Petey pie. Just hold on tight now.”

Peter just smiled a little before it was washed away into a grimace as Wade started to get them off the roof. He did as Wade asked and held on to the bigger man and tried to relax. Everything was going to be alright. They would figure out what was causing his healing factor to be stagnated and they would fix it, no problem. Peter just had to hold on, they would both take care of it. He just had to…hold…

And if the world went black in the meanwhile and the last thing he heard was a frantic Wade screaming his name, well, he would fix that too. Once he woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super pleased with this one, but hey, I wrote something again. This is also for Nikki who requested “Maybe it’s just me, but is it getting desperate in here, or what?” and "“God, I’m gonna need a stronger drink to deal with this.”. Hope you like it, and if you don't, I'll write something else for you!! 
> 
>  
> 
> [Requests open.](http://elleeffsee.tumblr.com/ask)


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